


How I’ve Wanted For You (You’ll Never Know)

by TypicalSadWriter



Series: 27 Year Ache [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: (Richie uses the f word a lot), Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Prom, Richie uses humour as a coping mechanism, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, Teenage Drama, gay slurs, richie tozier deserves to be happy and i’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 14:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypicalSadWriter/pseuds/TypicalSadWriter
Summary: Richie Tozier decidedly does not want to go to prom. At least, not until Eddie asks him.





	How I’ve Wanted For You (You’ll Never Know)

**Author's Note:**

> i finished this in a frenzy at 3 in the morning armed with a plate of pizza rolls and a two litre of coke. you’re welcome.  
TW: Use of the F word, Self-Internalised Homophobia, Smoking, Swearing, and mentions of picking at/peeling off skin on lips  
title is from Eddie My Love by Teen Queens

Senior Prom.

The school has been buzzing with excitement ever since the posters started being put up by student council. The thought churns Richie’s stomach. He has no fucking interest in going. No thank you. 

For starters, he doesn’t have a date. What’s the point of going if he’s just going to be standing on the wall like some kind of miserable asshole? 

He also doesn’t think he can stomach the thought of seeing Eddie dancing with someone else...

He pushes that thought deep, deep down. He can’t think of Eddie like that. He decided that back in middle school when he realised that he had a crush on Eddie. Eddie is his best friend. Richie can’t imagine losing him. He also can’t imagine having to come to terms with himself just yet. 

Faggot. 

The word has echoed through his head ever since it was introduced to him by Henry Bowers shortly after Richie himself had realised that maybe the way he felt about his best friend wasn’t entirely platonic. A sort of panic had filled him. He knew. Somehow, Bowers had figured out how disgusting Richie truly was. He had figured out that he had a crush on tiny Eddie of all people. 

He wasn’t even some hot jock that Richie could justify crushing on. 

He never wanted any of the jocks, though. Just Eddie. 

Eddie has a date. Some girl from his math class, apparently. She isn’t his girlfriend. Not yet. Apparently she let him touch her boobs, though. Richie had grit his teeth all throughout Eddie’s story about getting to second base. It made his chest ache in a way that felt fairly similar to heart burn. Richie fucking hated it. 

Bev is going to prom without a date. She says she doesn’t need some guy to have fun dancing. Richie has a feeling she also doesn’t want to have to deal with whoever she takes expecting sex at the end of the night. With her reputation and with the reputation around prom in general, it’s bound to happen. 

Bill and Ben are undoubtably going as well, even if neither of them have dates. They’ll be tripping over themselves like love-sick fools to dance with Bev. Richie will never understand Ben still chasing after her. She clearly doesn’t have feelings for him. It’s pathetic, really. Then again, Richie is a big fucking hypocrite. 

Stanley is going too. He even managed to get a date. Richie doesn’t know who the girl is, but apparently she goes to Mike’s school and is really nice. He made some joke about catholic girls being the freakiest ones. Stanley had pointed out that Mike’s school was Baptist, but Richie dismissed it with a roll of his eyes. 

“It’s senior prom, Richie, you have to go,” Eddie insists with the pout that Richie adores on his lips. Richie wants to kiss it right off. He doesn’t. He pinches his thigh instead, on the side so Eddie can’t catch the action. They’re in Richie’s car (a ‘74 Chevy Gremlin that his parents bought him for his sixteenth birthday; it breaks down every other day), their seats both reclined. Richie has parked on the outskirts of town. The radio is playing quietly in the background. Love My Way by Psychedelic Furs. Richie purses his lips, reaching forward and turning the radio up just a little. 

“Technically,” he responds after a moment, smoke tumbling from lips that are usually in a smirk, “I don’t have to do anything but die. That includes Senior Prom.”

He hears Eddie scoff in the passenger seat, and he slowly turns his head to look at the shorter boy. Eddie is scowling, looking up at the ceiling rather than at Richie. He looks so, so beautiful. Smoke just barely fogs up Richie’s vision, and the way the setting sun bounces off the clouds makes Eddie look like something out of a painting. Richie wishes he had something more than a shitty polaroid so he could take a picture of this. He wishes it wasn’t so creepy to want to take a picture of this. He wishes this were one of the movies where he could just roll over and tell Eddie how beautiful he is and then they could make out like the horny teenagers they are. Richie turns his head over again, blowing cigarette smoke through his nose. 

“Why don’t you want to go?” Eddie asks quietly as Richie starts back into town. Richie scoffs, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He thought this conversation was over. Apparently not. 

“I just don’t, Eds. I don’t see what you aren’t understanding here,” he says, shrugging a bit. He feigns indifference, but he can feel a ball of emotion building up in his throat. 

“It’s part of the high school experience, Richie! This is like- it’s the last time we’re going to be able to be kids. Don’t you want to spend it with your friends...?” 

and Richie is taken aback by the raw emotion in Eddie’s voice, the rare glimpse of the insecurities that never really go away no matter how much better you think you’re getting. 

He doesn’t answer. Of course Richie doesn’t. 

Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac plays quietly through his speakers. Richie turns it up. He hears Eddie huff again. 

“I’ll go,” he says when he’s parked in front of Eddie’s house. The music has been turned down, and Richie has made a bit of an effort to smooth his hair down. He’s very aware of Sonia staring out of the windows as she always does. Monitoring her Eddie. 

Eddie, who’s face lights up like Richie just gave him the entire world on a platter. 

“Wait, seriously?! Yes!” he cheers, holding out a fist. Richie hesitates before bumping his own against it lightly. 

Eddie starts towards the house. Richie watches to make sure he gets in safely before driving away. 

“Would it kill you to smile?” Stanley whispers in his ear. They’re posing for pictures in front of Eddie’s. 

Richie has a date. She’s clinging to his arm, offering a pretty smile to the camera. It’s just not the pretty smile Richie finds himself focusing on. 

Eddie stands a few people down with his date. She’s wearing a dark purple thing that clings to her every curve. He’s wearing a suit with a purple bow tie that matches her dress perfectly. Richie has no doubts that he agonised over the shade. 

He looks so happy, holding her with both his arms around her waist. She’s taller than him with her heels on. They’ve been left abandoned on the drive way for the time being. 

Richie turns back to the camera, offering a strained smile. 

“Your hair is a mess, Richie,” Kimberly chides, reaching up to try to soothe down the curls. 

She just got back from the bathroom, and Richie can see the fresh coat of peach lipgloss she just put on. He can smell the touch up of her hairspray and perfume. It makes him feel just a little nauseous. 

She chose a pastel pink for her dress, and insisted Richie get a matching tie and cummerbund. 

He reaches up, wrapping his fingers around her wrist loosely. 

“Dance with me?” he asks, quietly. Her whole face lights up, and she leans up, kissing his cheek. 

“I’d love to.” 

He tries not to wipe the lipgloss from his skin as she pulls him onto the dance floor. 

Her every movement is calculated, and Richie wonders how many hours she’s spent dancing in the mirror to figure out how to move her body in exclusively sexy ways. 

She doesn’t even mind when Richie steps on her toes accidentally. She laughs it off instead, asking him to be more careful. 

He has no clue what he’s doing. The extent of his dancing skills start and end with the Electric Slide. 

She gives up on dancing with him for a while. She says she’s tired and then makes him promise the first slow dance will be when they come back to the dance floor. He agrees. 

The punch tastes gross as all hell. He wonders who made it. 

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. That might have something to do with Eddie, though. Eddie with his date who is not his girlfriend but let him touch her boobs. 

Eddie dances like a god damned fool. He moves like he doesn’t have a clue what to do with his limbs that have just gotten longer over the years. Richie might be taller, but Eddie isn’t far off. 

She moves like a goof too, and they’re making each other laugh. It makes something clench deep in his stomach and Richie licks disgusting punch from his lips. 

Kimberly has disappeared to dance with friends for a while. Richie didn’t even try to stop her. 

Bill and Ben are both dancing with Bev, their faces lit up with joy. Ben’s suit is too big on him, hanging off his frame just a bit. He finally started losing weight this year. 

Eddie’s date has a little silver cross hanging around her neck. Her hair is too big, and so is her smile. 

Eddie’s is, too. It’s always been a little too big to fit his face, but fuck if Richie doesn’t love that about him. 

His smile is lightly stained with her lipstick from the shyest of kisses exchanged. 

Richie has never seen Eddie like this. Not only is he relatively relaxed, but he’s with someone who isn’t one of the Losers. He’s looking at her like she is just as sexy as Kimberly was surely trying to be. 

Maybe he’s high. 

No, he’s an anxious smoker. That’s why he’s not usually allowed to smoke when Richie does; he gets too paranoid. 

Kimberly reappears in time for the first slow song, as promised. Prince croons through the speakers and Richie tries his best not to step on her toes. He feels awkward, all long limbs and no rhythm. He can’t keep his eyes off of Eddie and his date, either. 

How did she make it past Sonia’s screening? 

How did she make it past Eddie’s screening, as a matter of fact? As far as Richie knew, Eddie never wanted a girlfriend up until now. 

He swallows thickly, letting Kimberly rest her head on his chest as they sway. 

He wishes he found her as attractive as he’s sure the other guys at the dance do. 

He could take her to his car after the dance and play some shitty mixtape while they make out. He could get lost in the tulle and ruffles of her dress, and they could think they’re falling in love as they fall apart. 

They kiss at the end of the song. 

Richie licks peach lipgloss from his lips, trying not to think about how much he’d like to be kissing someone else. 

It probably wouldn’t taste as good. Eddie uses some gross, waxy lip balm to keep his lips from getting too chapped. He gives Richie a stick every winter and he uses it once before neglecting it.

Kimberly offers him a wide smile, cheeks blushing under the artificial blush already there. 

“Sorry, Richie,” she says, reaching up and using her thumb to swipe over his bottom lip. 

He wishes it made him feel something, anything like it would if it were Eddie who was doing it. 

Richie is allowed to go back to the wall after a few more songs, and he looks down at the cup of punch in his hands. It still tastes like shit, but it gives him an excuse to not be dancing if anyone looks over. 

Anyone like Eddie, who has started to take notice of Richie’s reluctance to dance. 

Richie watches as Eddie throws him a third worried look in the span of the Madonna song playing. He offers a two fingered salute, his usual trouble-maker smirk on his lips. 

He doesn’t want Eddie worrying. This is supposed to be his night, after all. 

The night he comes out of his shell and dances with a pretty girl who was confident enough to ask him to prom.

Eddie offers a small smile, though the pinch between his brows exposes his remaining worry to Richie. 

Richie heads outside for a cigarette, leaning against the wall of the gym as smoke billows from his lips. 

He feels sick to his stomach in a way that has nothing to do with the poison entering his lungs. 

The music leaks through the walls and he suddenly wishes more than anything that he had stayed home. 

“Chee?”

His opens eyes that he hadn’t even realised closed, picking his head off of the brick to look at Eddie. 

He looks so fucking handsome in the moonlight. He’s sweating and his hair is just a little messy. 

Richie pushes away a wave of emotion that threatens to spill from his lips and eyes.

“What’s up, Eds?” He offers a stupidly fake grin as he asks, eyebrows raising. 

“You aren’t inside,” Eddie says, brows furrowing. 

Why does he care? 

Richie pushes that particularly bitter thought away for now. 

“Neither are you,” he finally says, gesturing around them. 

It’s cool outside, and Eddie’s breath is visible as he settles against the wall next to Richie. 

“Shut up,” Eddie says, and Richie clings desperately to the moment he has with all of Eddie’s attention, even if it is through annoyance and exasperation. 

That’s what he’s settled for; living in Eddie’s mind as something of a pest. At least Eddie think of him this way. 

“You shut up,” Richie grumbles. It’s too chilly for him to try to come up with a better comeback. 

His cigarette is almost gone. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” Eddie revises from what he said earlier. Richie frowns. 

He can’t tell the truth. He can’t tell Eddie that he hates the poor girl in there that did nothing to him. He can’t tell Eddie that it makes him sick to his stomach to see Eddie dancing with her. 

“Oh, you know. The whole nicotine addiction thing that’s been...ruining our amazing town,” he drawls, waving a dismissive hand. 

Eddie smiles that little half smile that makes Richie’s chest feel tight, and he steps closer and pinches the cigarette hanging from Richie’s lips with two fingers. 

Richie slowly opens his mouth, letting Eddie take the cigarette and put it to his own mouth. 

He looks so fucking beautiful with the smoke pouring from his lungs lazily, like it’s reluctant to leave Eddie. 

If he leaned forward and kissed him, what would happen? 

Would Eddie freak out?

Punch him?

Call him a faggot like Bowers does?

Would he kiss back?

Richie licks his lips, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Why are you out here?” he finally whispers, “I mean, you have a date that was all over you and shit. You might actually be able to lose your virginity tonight,” he teases, nudging Eddie. 

He tries not to think about the sharp twist in his chest as he says it. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“You have a date too. One who would absolutely love a little attention. Shit, Man, I suck at understanding women and even I noticed that.”

Richie chews on his bottom lip. 

It’s a nasty habit, one he’s had since they were kids. 

Eddie tells him off for it all the time, because sometimes Richie will break skin and bleed, or he’ll peel off too much and won’t be able to eat sour or spicy things for a week. 

“I don’t know. I’m not that interested in her.”

“Then why’s you come?”

Eddie turns to face Richie, brows furrowed. 

He looks genuinely puzzled and Richie frowns. 

You. It’s always been you, Eds. 

He can’t exactly say that, though. 

He finally settles on, “because you asked me to, Eddie.”

Eddie blinks, eyes slowly widening. 

As if he doesn’t know the power he has over Richie. 

As if he doesn’t know Richie would do anything to make his Eddie happy. 

“Yeah, but...I thought you also wanted to go...at least a little bit...” Eddie looks completely helpless for a second, and Richie tries to ignore the guilt he feels welling up inside of him. 

He shouldn’t have said anything. 

“Yeah, well...” 

Richie shrugs, at a loss for words. 

Eddie takes a few more drags of the cigarette before the butt falls to the floor. 

Richie lights another and they smoke their way through that one, too. 

Richie opens his mouth to suggest they go in as the cigarette burns out.

He loses his voice when the song inside changes. 

It’s an old song, from the fifties, one that his grandma would play when he was a kid. He knows it ridiculously well. 

He bought a Teen Queens CD just because he wanted to listen to it and let himself be a dramatic teenager in the privacy of his own room.

_Eddie, my love, I love you so_

He swallows thickly, looking up at Eddie from under his lashes. 

Eddie looks horribly flushed for a second. 

Pretty. 

Richie takes a deep breath before opening his mouth again. If he doesn’t tell Eddie how he feels now, he never will. 

The door to the gym opens. Eddie’s date stands there, cheeks pink. 

“Eddie? Come back in? I requested it...” 

She looks awfully shy, biting onto her bottom lip. 

Eddie nods robotically, making his way over to her. 

The door closes behind them. 

Richie watches it for a moment, trying to push down the ball of emotion in his chest.

_Please, Eddie, don’t make me wait too long_

Richie lets out a choked up sob.

It’s one he’s been holding onto for years.

He doesn’t afford himself the opportunity to cry often. 

He pulls out another cigarette, lighting it with shaking hands as the song plays out. 

After managing to choke around his tears and the smoke for the entirety of the song, he drops his half finished cigarette on the wet grass. 

He steps on it with the stupid dress shoes he wore for Eddie as he heads back inside. 

He’s sure his eyes are red. 

It’s dark in the gym, though, and his glasses reflect the lights. 

Kimberly is standing by one of the walls, some girl that Richie doesn’t care about standing next to her. 

“I’m going home,” he tells her. 

Her face screws up. 

“You reek of cigarettes, and you’re ditching me halfway through the dance?! What’s your damage, Richie Tozier?!”

Richie shrugs a bit. 

He doesn’t really have a good excuse. He just can’t be  here  anymore. 

“God. I thought maybe Bowers was wrong and you deserved a chance, but screw you! You’re probably a faggot just like he says,” she declares, bottom lip wavering despite the way she turns her nose up. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Because, he is. 

About leaving her. 

About his feelings for Eddie. 

About being exactly what everyone says he is. 

He ignores Stanley’s stare on him as he marches past him. 

The night air feels cooler than it had just a few minutes ago, and Richie shivers as he makes his way to his car. 

He tells the other Losers he got sick to his stomach the following Monday. 

Must have been something in the punch. 

Bev says she felt a little queasy too, but Richie sees the glint in her eyes that hints to her just wanting to help him coverup. 

Does she know?

If she does, Richie doesn’t find out. 

Three weeks. 

Richie just has to make it three weeks.

Kimberly tells the entire school he’s a faggot who bailed on her at prom. 

Richie ignores the taunting, counting down the days. 

They graduate in early May. 

It’s warm out, and Richie clings to his diploma like a lifeline as he leaves the school for the last time. 

His parents flank him. 

Eddie waves as he walks behind Sonia. 

Richie waves back. 

That night, the Losers meet in the clubhouse. 

It’s crowded. They’ve all outgrown it. 

Richie and Eddie fight over the hammock, like they always have. 

They end up sharing, like they always have. Head to toe. 

“So. We have one summer left before the rest of our lives. What do you guys wanna do tomorrow?” Eddie asks, looking over the rest of the Losers. 

Richie thinks he looks beautiful, slightly sweaty and shadowed by the dim lanterns they have to give them light. 

“We could go swimming in the Quarry,” Bev suggests, smoke pouring from her lips as she does. 

“I-I second that idea,” Bill says from where he’s sitting next to Stan on the floor. They have a deck of cards spread out in front of them. Richie thinks they’re playing Solitaire, but he wouldn’t really know. 

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hot,” Stanley grumbles, moving a card. 

Eddie turns his eyes to Richie. 

Richie’s heart clenches. 

“Chee?”

Richie shrugs, looking down at where his fingers are brushing against Eddie’s calf. 

“Swimming sounds nice,” he confirms quietly. 

He looks up, and Eddie is offering his little half-smile again. 

Richie smiles back, moving his hand to tickle Eddie’s foot. 

Eddie squeals, jerking his leg away from Richie as much as he can in the limited space. 

Richie laughs, joined by the other Losers. 

He tries to take mental pictures of everything. 

He tries to commit to memory how Eddie’s warmth feels tangled up with him, how Mike mouths the words he reads, how Bev looks with a cigarette hanging from her full lips.

That night, he drives Eddie home like he always does. 

Eddie turns to him once they’re parked, smiling just a little. 

“Hey. So, being nice isn’t really what we do, but...I’m really glad you’re my best friend. Thank you for...doing that, through school. I’m happy we made it together,” Eddie whispers. 

Richie’s eyes widen, hands clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

“Yeah, Eds. Me too,” he whispers. 

Eddie nods, cheeks pink. 

Then, he’s reaching over the center console and hugging Richie tightly. 

Richie hesitates before wrapping his arms around Eddie in return. 

The hug only lasts a few seconds, but it’s enough for Richie. 

Anything from Eddie is enough for Richie. 

Eddie smiles again as he pulls away, his flush darker. 

“See you tomorrow, Richie,” Eddie murmurs. 

Richie nods. 

He watches Eddie make his way up to the front door. 

The porch light makes him nothing more than a silhouette. 

Even still, Richie watches until he’s inside, desperate for his last glimpse of Eddie. 

When he gets home, he throws what little shit he actually cares about into his backseat and leaves. 

His parents are asleep. He writes them a note telling them he’s leaving. 

He stops by the clubhouse, leaving another there. In the hammock. 

It’s two in the morning when he drives by Eddie’s house again. His bedroom light is off. He’s probably already in bed, asleep and ready for his last summer before everyone has to grow up and leave for college. 

Everyone but Richie. 

He didn’t even bother applying to any colleges. 

He considers parking and going to knock on Eddie’s window. 

Telling him how in love he truly is. 

Instead, he lets his eyes move over the front of the house for an indulgent moment. 

Then, he starts driving again. 

The ‘Welcome to Derry’ sign fades in his rearview mirror and Richie feels the tightening in his chest loosen just a bit. 

The further he gets, the better he feels. 

The further he gets, the fuzzier the memories of Eddie get.

By the time he gets to California two days later, he’s forgotten what he was running from. 

The ocean is beautiful. 

The air is too hot, the sand is irritating, but the water is a deep blue and it moves so easily. 

He vaguely remembers wanting to bring someone to the beach, though he isn’t exactly sure who. 

He’s truly forgotten now.

He smiles at the thought, ignoring the residual ache as a name taps at the back of his mind. 

_He’s free._

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so, i wasn’t planning on writing something so fucking sad, but i’m also a sucker for unrequited love stories.  
if enough people ask, i might make a second chapter where i just rewrite the ending so the boy’s end up together or something.  
as always, comments are loved and appreciated!  
feel free to point out any spelling/grammar errors as english wasn’t my first language and it’s fucking HARD to learn, bro.


End file.
